


Journal: Epilogue

by Aria_Lerendeair



Series: Journals [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But John wears him down, Epilogue, Feels, Lots and lots of feels, M/M, Porn? Maybe?, Sherlock is a stubborn bastard, This will be pretty painful in the beginning, happy ending!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final installment in the Journals series, this is the epilogue, set almost immediately after what happens at the end of Year Three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for sticking around as long as you have to wait for this. I love you guys and this story is a true labor of love that I can't even explain. I hope that the epilogue lives up to the story that the first three years managed to tell so well. 
> 
> Without further ado. Here is the long-awaited sequel.

 

 

John frowned at Molly.  Her text message to come visit her in the lab had been unexpected.  He hadn’t seen her in several months, but she had been happy then.  Now she looked frantic and worried.  

****

“Molly, what’s going on?”  She glanced at him and then back down into her lap.  He could see she was holding something.  Hard enough that her knuckles were turning white.  

****

“Before I tell you, I need you to make me a promise.”  

****

He gave her a bemused smile.  “Sure.”  

****

“When you are finished with these, you must give them back.”  

****

John blinked.  That was not what he had expected.  Promises of secrecy, yes.  “What are they?”  

****

“Just promise me!”  

****

“All right, all right.”  He moved closer to Molly and reached out to touch her back.  Whatever was going on clearly had her on edge.  “I promise.  Is everything okay?  Are you okay?”

****

Molly shook her head and looked at John before glancing back into her lap.  She wondered for the hundredth time if she was doing the right thing.  “Yes.  No.  I mean, yes, I’m fine.”  She cleared her throat and held the two small leather-bound notebooks out to John.  “These are for you.”  

****

John looked down at the notebooks, reaching out to take them.  “What are they?”  

****

She bit her lip and looked at John.  “You’ll understand when you read them.  Please...don’t be angry with me John.”  

****

He laughed.  “Molly, why would I be angry with you?”  

****

She took a deep breath.  “Because Sherlock is alive.  I helped him fake his death.  What you are now holding, are the journals he kept for the last three years.  I promised him I would give them to you, and when you are finished, destroy them.”  

****

John froze.  Only three words had made it past his ears and to his brain.  Sherlock is alive.  Sherlock was alive.  Sherlock was alive and Molly had helped him.  She had lied to him for three years.  Watched him go through hell, all the while knowing Sherlock was alive.  

****

Molly burst into tears at the look on John’s face.  “I’m so sorry John.  I promised him.  He said it was to keep you safe.  That your life depended on me being able to keep this secret.  I didn’t want to, but I promised.”  

****

He looked down at the notebooks in his hands.  Sherlock was alive.  Sherlock was alive.  The thought circled his brain, but never solidified.  Sherlock was alive?  How could he be alive?  He had seen him fall.  Seen him on the ground, bleeding, his eyes dead.  

****

John realized Molly was talking to him still and that he had heard none of it.  “I’m going to go home now Molly.”  He turned and left the lab.  He caught the tube back to his apartment with Mary.  

****

_Mary_.

****

She was working the graveyard shift tonight.  She would not be home until the early morning.  Even then, she would fall straight to sleep when she came home.  John looked down at the notebooks in his hands.  Why would Sherlock have kept these?  

****

Why had Sherlock given them to Molly?  

****

If he was still alive, why had he not told him?  

****

He did not let the notebooks leave his hands until he let himself into his apartment.  John put them down next to his chair and made himself a cup of tea.  He had the feeling he was going to need it.  

****

He looked at the notebooks while he waited for the tea to steep.  They looked at him and he frowned.  Why had Sherlock not come and told him that he was alive?  Why was he using this?  

****

John gave a slow exhale and squared his shoulders.  This was bloody ridiculous.  He had invaded Afghanistan.  He could manage to read a couple of notebooks written by his best friend.  He walked back over to them and picked up the first one.  It was much more worn, the leather cover a bit beaten up, but obvious that it had been used regularly.  

****

Why the hell would Sherlock write a journal anyway?  He turned to look at the tea and frowned when he saw it had been over-steeped now.  He sighed and put a fresh kettle on.  Sherlock, managing to drive him crazy, even in death.  

****

Except he wasn’t dead.  

****

He slammed the notebook down on the counter in frustration.  He wasn’t dead.  Sherlock Holmes, one of the most maddening men of their generation, was not dead.  

****

John finished making his cup of tea and brought it into the living room.  He took the first notebook again and sat down in his favorite chair.  Might as well get this over with.  At least he had tea now.  

****

He took a deep breath and opened the first notebook.  

****

Mary came home just as he got to December of the second year.  He could barely read the words in front of him.  He wiped his eyes before looking at Mary.  John managed to look up at her and give a greeting.  

****

She smiled sleepily at him and went into their bedroom.  

****

His cup of tea sat untouched next to his chair as he looked back at the notebook again.  

****

John reached the end of the first notebook not long after and picked up the second one.  His hands were steady, but a few of the tears that had been threatening were back again.  Sherlock had gone through hell.  All of it for him, so he would be safe.  

****

He stroked the front cover of the second journal before opening it and starting to read.  

****

_Sherlock_.

****

John finished the second journal.  He ignored the clock chiming, telling him to was far too late to possibly be awake.  He stared at the last two sentences, dread settling in his stomach.  Goodbye?  When he hadn’t even bothered to say hello?  

****

He leapt up from his chair.  His cane rested against the side table, long forgotten.  John raced to the closet, grabbing his jacket, tugging it on.  He went back to the table and grabbed both of the notebooks.  He made a quick stop in the kitchen to write a note to Mary.  

****

_Sherlock is alive._

_I have to find him._

_**** _

_-John_

_**** _

He regretted how sparse the note was, but he would make it up to Mary after.  After he found Sherlock and killed him for doing this.  For avoiding an explanation entirely by passing him these journals.  

****

His heart clenched.  

****

_I am -in- love with you John._

_**** _

_I will never see you again._

_**** _

_This is goodbye John._

_**** _

The words were on a constant replay in his mind.  He could not stop them.  He hailed a cab not far from their flat, giving an order to go to 221b Baker Street.  There were not many places Sherlock could go.  

****

When had Sherlock given Molly the journals?  Was he still in London?  Or had he left already?

****

John fought down the panic that threatened at that idea.  Even if he had left, he would hunt Sherlock down.  It did not matter.  He would find him.  He had to.  

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

He was ready to tear his hair out.  Two days.  Two days that he had spent barely eating, barely sleeping.  John had torn London apart, checking all of Sherlock’s old haunts that he could remember.  No one had seen him, they thought him mad for thinking Sherlock was alive still.  They didn’t know, they didn’t understand.  

****

Mary was worried about him, how frantic he had become.  He would make it up to her.  He would.  After he found Sherlock.  

****

John sighed and opened the first notebook, flipping through the pages again.  They were the only things keeping him sane.  Small pieces of Sherlock in book form.  

****

He had to find him.  

****

He blinked in confusion when ‘God Save the Queen’ began to play from his pocket.   _Mycroft_. Of course!  Mycroft had known Sherlock was alive the entire time!  He would know where he was!  John fumbled with his phone, flipping it open, not even letting Mycroft get a word in before he was demanding.  

****

“Where is he?!”  

****

“Now, now John.  What makes you think I would tell you now after all of this time?”  Mycroft smiled as he watched his brother walk into the gardens, towards the beehives.  They were the only thing that could distract him.  

****

John growled into the phone, frustration at the sing-song tone making him want to throw it across the room.  “Because I’ve read the bloody journals and if he thinks for one second that he is going to walk away from-”

****

“Now John, do use your head.” Mycroft chided.  

****

The words were enough to make him pause.  For his anger to cool and rational thought to creep back in.  

****

“That’s better.  Now.  If you come charging to where he is right now, what is he going to think?  You say you’ve read the journals John.  You know what he feels.” Mycroft drawled, listening carefully for John’s reaction.  

****

He bit his lip and clenched his phone even tighter.  He knew exactly what it would look like to him if he were in Sherlock’s position.  

****

“You’re asking me to make a choice.”  John bit out.  He hated being manipulated in any way, yet here Mycroft was, doing it again.

****

“Don’t be ridiculous John.  The reason Sherlock left is clear.  He wishes not to interfere in the happiness you have found with Mary.”  Mycroft drawled.  

****

“So I leave him alone.  Don’t go chasing after him.  Pretend that he never came back.”  John felt his stomach roll at the thought.  Know that Sherlock was alive and not go chasing after him?  Could he do that?  He closed his eyes and thought of the journals.  Of what Sherlock had written to him, his feelings obvious before he had realized them himself.  

****

“He said goodbye John.  Or attempted to, from what I understand.”  

****

“I know that!”  John snarled.  He rubbed his hand over his face.  Reading the last entry in the journal had been torture.  He had walked straight past Sherlock, bumping into him without recognizing him.  

****

“Let him go John.  You have to let him go.”  Mycroft ordered, his voice quiet.  He had hoped that perhaps things would turn out differently with the doctor, but now it was clear that he had made his choice.  

****

John heard the hard plastic of his phone crack and forced himself to loosen his grip.  Let Sherlock Holmes go.  After losing him for three years.  Learning to live without him again, learning to live with his limp.  Feeling that he had lost the most precious thing he had ever had in his life without even realizing how special it was.  He’d been free with Sherlock.  He’d been himself.  

****

“John?”  Mycroft’s tone was questioning.  

****

The choice wasn’t even a choice any longer.  John smiled.  Strange.  When it came down to it, it was the same decision he had made five years ago.  A normal life, one with a wife, possibly a family, his limp.  The life everyone expected him to choose.  Even Mycroft.  Or a life with Sherlock.  With fits of anger, petulance, pouting, boredom, chasing criminals, being shot at, making sure Sherlock stayed safe...

****

The decision was just as easy now as it was then.  “Where is he Mycroft?”  He heard Mycroft hesitate before answering.  

****

“You have made your decision?”  

****

“There isn’t any decision to consider."  There never was, when it came to the two of them. He closed his eyes.  “May I ask for a favor?”  He could feel Mycroft’s eyebrows raising, but he was listening.  

****

“Can you help Mary find a job in her field?  Away...from London, perhaps?  I don’t...”  John couldn’t finish the sentence.  When Sherlock had not been there, he had been happy.  He truly had.  But knowing that Sherlock was out there, that Sherlock cared about him, loved him even, he could never be as happy with Mary as he once had been.  The thought made him heartsick.  Mary was wonderful.  She was the last person who should be hurt in the result of this.  

****

“I will see what I can do.”  Mycroft felt sorry for the poor woman.  To come between these two had been a recipe for disaster.  

****

John nodded, even though Mycroft couldn’t see him.  “Thank you.”  He took a deep breath and a thrill raced through him.  He was going to see Sherlock.  Sherlock was alive!  “Where is he?”  

****

Mycroft smiled.  He had chosen correctly.  Miss Mary Morstan - currently Watson had known she was marrying a man with a broken heart that belonged to another man.  He had made sure of that.  While she would be surprised at Sherlock’s return, she would understand.  Especially when she caught sight of John like this.  

****

“I will send a car for you John.  May I suggest settling your affairs with Mrs. Watson before you go chasing after my brother.  Knowing you, you will likely not be able to leave him after you are together again.”  

****

He swallowed hard.  That was the right thing to do, and Mary deserved at least that.  “All right.”  Mycroft was right.  He was always right.  Just like Sherlock.  

****

“Good evening Doctor Watson.”

****

John stared at the phone after the soft click and let it fall into his lap.  Mary would be home from lunch with her parents soon.  He had best be packed before she came home.  He stood up and walked to the bedroom.  

****  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked Mary too much as a character, in both the books and movies to follow Doyle's path of just offing her. Yet, what is about to come....well, it won't be pleasant for everyone. But it leads John back to where he really belongs. And as John said...there never really was a choice for him, was there? :) 
> 
> Comments and criticism are always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

****

****

****

John heard Mary the second she came home.  His duffle bag was packed and sitting next to the door.  As was his laptop bag.  His gun was tucked into the side pocket of the duffle bag.  Almost the same two bags he brought to their flat the first time.  He shook his head.  He had to stop drawing parallels.  This was different.  Mary made it different.  

****

“John?  Are you home?”  

****

His heart clenched painfully at Mary’s questioning voice.  She had seen the bags then.  “In the kitchen Mary.  Would you like a cup of tea?” John knew his voice sounded off.  He could hear it.  

****

He watched her walk in and look at him.  Her face was calm.  So calm.  John clenched the counter.  It would be easier if she screamed and yelled at him.  “Mary I-”

****

“John.  It’s okay.”  

****

“No, it isn’t, I shouldn’t be doing this to you, I don’t know what I’m thinking and-” He stopped as Mary walked up to him and cupped his face in her hands.  He looked at her and breathed out slowly.  “I’m so sorry Mary.”  

****

John relaxed as she rested her forehead against his.  He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.  “I wish I could explain in a way that made some sort of sense, because all of this is just-”

****

“John.”  

****

He sighed as she interrupted him again and he looked at her, really looked at her.  She was smiling at him.  How could she possibly be smiling at him?  “Mary, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.”  

****

“Not even you could bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead John.”  She gave a small smile and kissed John’s cheek.  “I will be okay.”  

****

John squeezed her close and gave her a tight hug.  “I don’t deserve you.  You are the most incredible woman I have ever met.  In another life, one without Sherlock Holmes...I wouldn’t..”  He trailed off, trying to find a proper way to express what he wanted to say.  

****

“I know John.  I know what type of man I married.”  She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair for a moment before pulling her hand away.  “I’d like to think I made you happy.”

****

“I am happy Mary.  It’s just that...”  

****

Mary took a deep breath.  John was not making this easy.  She kissed his other cheek.  “There are pieces of yourself you kept from me.  I’m not upset at that, people should always have secrets.  But you have no secrets from him John.  You are free to be exactly who you are.  And you need that.  It’s the difference between wanting and needing.  You need that freedom.”  

****

John wrapped her up in another tight hug and squeezed her close.  “Promise me that you will stay in touch?  I have no right to ask anything of the sort, but I care about you so much Mary, I want to make sure you are all right.”  

****

She laughed and smiled at him.  “Of course we’re going to keep in touch John.  I need to make sure I threaten Sherlock properly and that he takes good care of my favorite doctor.”  

****

He did not deserve to be in the same room with her.  She was everything he wanted, but not what he needed.  She was right.  John sighed and looked around the room, at the life they had managed to build together.  Could he really leave all of this, leave Mary on her own?  He looked back at her.  

****

She let out a huff of frustration.  John Watson was too noble for his own good sometimes.  

****

“Mary-”

****

“No.  Listen to me John.”  Mary waited for sad blue eyes to look up at her before she continued.  “I am standing between an immovable object, which is you, you stubborn man, and an unstoppable force that is pulling you to him.  You are going to go to him whether I am here or not, the pull is that strong.”  She paused for a moment to watch John’s realization that she was right.  “You two belong together.  You need each other.  Now go.”  

****

John hesitated for a moment longer before he kissed her on the forehead.  “You are one in a million Mary.  I’m sorry that this turned out the way it did.”  

****

“Me too.”  She admitted softly, looking up at him.  “Now get going.  He’s waiting for you.”  

****

John hoped she was right as he picked up his duffle and laptop bag before heading out to the parked car that was waiting for him in the street.  

****

It was only after he left that Mary let herself slump into John’s armchair.  She curled up tightly before she let the tears come.  

********   
  
  
  


There was no one waiting for him inside the car.  Only a driver that didn’t say a word when he tossed both of his bags in.  He felt sadness and relief at the same time.  He would be seeing Sherlock soon.  But he had abandoned and left Mary to be able to do that.  What kind of monster was he?  

****

But he was going to see Sherlock.  Sherlock was waiting, well, he wasn’t waiting.  He had said goodbye.  Did Sherlock even want to see him again?  Or had saying goodbye been the end of it?  His fingers tightened around the journals and he opened the second one.  John glanced around the back seat of the car and spied a pen attached to a notepad.  Probably left there by Mycroft or his assistant.  He grabbed the pen and flipped to the last page of the second notebook.  

****

Underneath Sherlock’s goodbye, he scribbled his own note.  

****

_No it isn’t you bloody stupid man.  You can’t say goodbye until you’ve at least said hello._

_**** _

_-John_

_**** _

He closed the notebook and the small ache in his chest lifted.  He had a feeling it was going to be a longer car ride than he would expect.  He shut his eyes and relaxed back against the leather seat.  He would be seeing Sherlock soon.  

****  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short and for that I am sorry, but this is really just a break until the big scene, when John sees Sherlock again. 
> 
> >> And I'm guilty of really liking Mary, so I didn't wanna kill her. Also, the whole premise of this entire series is said by Mary in this chapter and I still love it as much as I did the first time I heard it.
> 
> An immovable object and an unstoppable force. John and Sherlock.


	4. Chapter Four

****

****

****

“I think I am going to move to Sussex.  There are several other bee farms in the area.  I’ll be able to keep one without drawing notice to myself.”  

****

Mycroft glanced down at his Blackberry.  John was en route and would be here in just under two hours.  He looked back up at Sherlock.  To anyone else, Sherlock looked fine, like he was gaining some of the weight back that he had lost.  He still made harsh deductions about anyone who crossed him, but his heart was not in it.  He had not touched any of the case files Lestrade had sent to them.  

****

“What about The Work?  Are you going to give up on it so easily now that you are back?”  Mycroft asked, taking another sip of his tea.  Sherlock tensed and frowned at him.  Mycroft smiled.  He could still poke and prod his little brother easier than anyone else.  He also knew the real reason that Sherlock would not go back.  John was in London.  He did not want to risk running into him there.  

****

“The police will just have to manage on their own inept two feet.  They managed long before I got there, I am sure they can again.”  

****

He frowned and looked down at his blackberry again.  He gave instructions for the driver to increase his speed.  Sherlock was not himself and he was tired of seeing it.  “Just because he is in London doesn’t mean-”

****

“Excuse me Mycroft, I am going to go out for a walk.”  Sherlock stood and made his way to the door, tugging on his coat without looking back at Mycroft.  

********   
  
  
  


****

****

John got to the house a few hours later.  And when he said house, he really meant mansion.  It was a sprawling mansion, looking like something out of a bad romance movie.  Mycroft and Sherlock lived here?  He swallowed and got out of the car, going to the truck to grab his bags.  

****

“Let the driver get them Doctor Watson.  He will bring them up to your room.”  Mycroft said as he walked down the front stairs.  

****

“Where’s Sherlock?”  John demanded, looking at him.  

****

“Straight to the point then are we Doctor?”  Mycroft drawled, looking out over the gardens.  

****

John’s hands were fists before he even had a second to think.  Mycroft was the only thing standing between them now.  “Where is he Mycroft?”  

****

“Now Doctor Watson, I want to talk to you for a moment.”  He cautioned.  

****

“Mycroft, if you do not tell me where Sherlock is right this second, I will put my fist through your face.”  John growled, his body vibrating with tension.  Sherlock was so close.  

****

“What are you going to do when you see him?”  

****

John hesitated for a moment and looked down at the ground.  He had not thought that far into the future yet.  He had to see Sherlock first.  Then he would know what to do.  He didn’t know how, but he would know.  

****

Mycroft sighed and looked at John.  “I seem to be forever chastising you for wanting to race to my brother.  I simply want you to realize that this is all not as easy as you seem to make it.  You cannot expect him to-”  

****

“I expect nothing more than to see my best friend alive again after three years of thinking him dead Mycroft.”  John snarled, his voice angrier by the second.  

****

“Doctor Watson.  You left your wife to see him again.  You have read those journals.  If you see him now-”

****

“There is no if Mycroft.  I am going to see Sherlock.  You are going to tell me where he is, or I am going to find someone who will tell me.  Understood?”  John glared at Mycroft.  

****

Overly passionate when there was no need.  He sighed and pointed towards the gardens to the right.  “There.  He’s keeping bees.  It’s the only thing that will keep him distracted.  He won’t look at any cases from London.  He won’t talk to Lestrade and will barely talk to me.  He is possibly going to move to Sussex to keep bees and to get away from you.”  

****

John blinked, confused.  “Bees?”  

****

Mycroft gave a small smile.  “Bees.  He loves to study them.  He always talked about having a bee farm as a child.”  

****

He smiled a little.  How like Sherlock to want to raise bees.  “I could see that.”  John said, his voice soft.  

****

“If he doesn’t want to go back to London and fight the criminal underworld...”  

****

John looked up at Mycroft, suddenly understanding.  “You think I won’t stay if I don’t have that excitement in my life.  Of chasing criminals.  Being shot at.  If Sherlock doesn’t go back to London, you’re afraid I’ll leave.”

****

He raised his chin a fraction and looked at John.  “Your hand is steadiest under pressure Doctor Watson.  Your limp disappeared because of that excitement.  I would not ask you to give all of that up.”  

****

“I would.”  John said, looking Mycroft right in the eye.  “I have left everything I thought I wanted in life, not because I wanted to keep catching criminals, but because I could not imagine knowing Sherlock was alive and not going after him.  If he wants to go back to London, I will follow.  If he wants to keep bees in Sussex...”  He smiled.  “I will follow.  Happily.”  

****

He nodded, satisfied.  “Then I would suggest you go find my brother.  He will not be as easy to convince as I was.”  Mycroft turned and made his way back to the house.  

****

John was about to ask what he meant by that and decided against it.  No need when Mycroft was already on the way back to the house.  John turned towards the garden.  

****

“By the way Mycroft?”  John called out.  He heard the man pause on the stairs even though John was still facing the gardens.  He grinned.  “Think it is high time for you to start calling me John.”  He started to head down the lane and didn’t bother waiting for a response.  

****

Mycroft watched John walk down the lane and smiled.  “Good luck, John.”  He said, watching him go.  John had a fight on his hands and he wasn’t even aware of it.  Sherlock had found the one thing in the world he never wanted to let go of.  He wouldn’t react well to having it handed to him on a silver platter.  

********  
  


****

_Sherlock_.  He was going to see Sherlock.  He broke into a jog, grinning.  Sherlock wasn’t far now.  He would see him shortly.  What was he going to do?  What was he going to say?  It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, he was going to see Sherlock!    

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems like I'm dragging this out on purpose, but I swear I'm not. This is the only place to break these chapters and the next couple will be properly long to make up for it!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, FINALLY Sherlock and John meet again face-to-face.

****

****

****

****

He knew who was coming towards him.  He knew the second he heard someone else had come down the gravel footpath.  Only one person walked like that.  One person he had spent far too much time studying.  He would never forget how he walked and yet now he was here.  Why?  Why was John here?  Why was he not in London with Mary?  

****

Why did that image of John with Mary still hurt?  He had spent two months happy for John.  He had made his choice.  He would respect that no matter what he did.  No matter how much it hurt. Why John was here did not matter. He would tell John to go back to London, back to his wife.

****

Sherlock heard John stop not far from him.  Approximately fifteen feet away.  He kept his back to John.  It would hurt to look at him.  It would.  He knew it in his heart.  But he could not keep staring at the pine trees in the west grove forever.  

****

“Are you going to look at me Sherlock?”  John asked, watching as Sherlock’s back stiffened.  He did not turn around.  He knew Sherlock had heard him coming.  He had made more than enough noise, no matter how lost in thought Sherlock was.  

****

It hurt.  It hurt so much that for a moment, Sherlock was sure he could no longer breathe.  John saying his name.  Hearing it in his voice, so close, was painful.  His organs seemed to twist in on themselves and he was sure his head was spinning.  The gardens in front of him blurred and he realized that if he was not careful, he was going to start crying.  

****

“Why have you come here John?”  Sherlock asked, nearly stumbling over John’s name.  His voice didn’t sound normal, nothing felt normal.  Why hadn’t John left him alone?  “Go back to London.  To Mary.  You won’t need to worry about me interfering with your life ever again.”  He was sure he was more selfish than this.  John had to have come for a reason.  It did not matter.  He would leave and go back to his wife.  That was the truth of it.  

****

His throat felt dry.  This is not how this should have gone.  Sherlock sounded almost angry with him.  "Sherlock...please..."  John looked at Sherlock, wanting, needing him to turn around. To see that perhaps some part of him was happy that he had come back.

****

Sherlock clenched his hands into fists. Why was John doing this? His voice was torture to hear. He was done being upset over this.

****

John stared at Sherlock. There was still no response. None. "Sherlock. I am not going to leave without looking at you. I have waited three years to see you alive again. Look me in the bloody eye while I am talking to you!"

****

He spun and glared at John. He was wearing the cream jumper. The Argyle one that always looked good on him. The same eyes and hair. Except now everything was different. The urge to wrap John in his arms and never let go was near impossible to ignore. He wanted to kiss and hold him and touch him until John promised to never leave him. John. Why was John doing this to him?  Sherlock swallowed and finally let their eyes meet.  A shock went through him and he got the uncomfortable feeling that John could see through him.  

****

He stared at Sherlock. Three years and he had barely changed at all. Except for the hair. John grinned. It suited him, surprisingly. "Hello Sherlock." He was right there. Was he real?

****

A deep breath. He could do this. One meeting and John would leave forever. "Hello John." He smiled a little, watching John stare at his hair. It was different.  "Only my hair is different."

****

John nodded, still staring at Sherlock's face, devouring the sight of him. _Sherlock_.  "Is it your natural color?"

****

“Close to it.  Not exactly.”  Sherlock said, watching John stare at him.  Oh this hurt.  Why did this hurt so much?  It shouldn’t hurt anymore.  He didn’t expect anything of John.  He took a deep breath and looked at John.  “Why are you here?”  John looked surprised, shocked even at the question.  Why would he look shocked?  That didn’t make sense.  It was a perfectly reasonable question to ask.

****

He looked at Sherlock, confused.  “Why am I here?  Why wouldn’t I be here?”  

****

He clenched his hands into fists and took a slow breath.  He would not shout at John.  He would not.  “You have a wife, a home and a life in London.  I said goodbye.  Why are you here?”  Sherlock asked him again, this time his words demanding some sort of answer.  

****

John hesitated.  Saw Sherlock’s eyes narrow and glare at him.  “You didn’t say goodbye.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gestured to the journals in John’s hands.  “What do you think those are?”  

****

“These...”  John growled, walking closer to Sherlock.  “Are not a goodbye letter.  You let me walk by you without saying a damn word!”

****

“You didn’t recognize me!”  Sherlock shot back.  He remembered how that moment had felt.  Devastating.  Heartwrenching.  He did not need to feel it again.  It had been more than painful the first time around.  

****

He took a deep breath and glared at Sherlock.  “I know I didn’t.  Do you have any idea how upset I was when I read this and I realized that?  That you had been right in front of me and I missed you?”  

****

He shrugged.  “Not very upset I imagine.”  

****

John flinched and looked away from Sherlock.  “That was a bit not good Sherlock.”  He said, his voice lowering into much softer tones.  

****

Sherlock waved it off, not even looking at John.  “You didn’t think to stop, to look, for one moment, no, you had to get home, to Mary, she was more important.  Is more important, actually.”  He had to make John leave, he couldn’t take this anymore.  It was too painful.  

****

“I looked for over a year Sherlock.”  John stated quietly, watched Sherlock tense and then stop moving.  “A year.  Over my shoulder, around me, I kept thinking I saw you ducking into corners.  I would race there only to see you were gone.”  

****

“John, I...”  

****

“No!  Do you know what that did to me?  I knew you weren’t dead Sherlock!  I knew it!  Just like I knew you weren’t a bloody fraud!”  John shouted at him.  

****

He shook his head.  This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.  They weren’t supposed to fight.  They were friends.  They could pretend that he had never admitted to loving John and go on with their lives.  John with Mary and he alone.  Like he was supposed to be.  “You couldn’t have known I wasn’t dead John.  I watched you at the funeral.  At the graveyard.  I heard you ask for your miracle.”  

****

He stood in silence, clenching his arms tight.  Sherlock had been there?  Been at his own funeral and at the graveyard when he poured his heart out?  “You were there?  At all of it?”  

****

Sherlock didn’t recognize the tone of John’s voice.  It was hard and rough.  He flinched and looked away, unable to see what John thought of him.  “It was in the journal.  You read it.  Of course I was.”  

****

When the fist hit him, he hadn’t been expecting it.  His head snapped to the side and he looked at up at John.  “I deserved that.”  Sherlock said quietly.  

****

“Yes you bloody well did!  You actually deserve several more in fact!”  John growled, staring at Sherlock with his hands clenched.

****

He stood up and looked at John. Sherlock nodded. "You are right of course. Go ahead then." He dropped his eyes to the ground and waited for the next hit to come.  

****

John sighed and felt all of his anger drain out of him.  He felt hollow.  What was wrong with them?  “You want me to hit you now Sherlock?”  

****

“As you pointed out, I deserve it.”  Sherlock said, raising his eyes for a moment.  He looked at John.  He appeared tired.  Hurt.  Confused.  What was there to be confused about?  He would be going back home to Mary soon.  He waited, watching John, waiting for the next punch to come.  

****

“You deserve a lot of things Sherlock.  Another good punch might be one of them.”  John stared at Sherlock, watching him flinch and look away.  

****

His lips twisted into a small smile.  “Might?  You should speak in more definitive terms John.”  Sherlock teased, feeling his heart wrench.  Why was he doing this to himself, to John?  He had to make John leave.  

****

“Well, your face is bloody hard and I don’t feel like hurting my hand further.”  John muttered, smiling at Sherlock.  He saw Sherlock give him a quick smile before his face fell again.  

****

Enough was enough.  He had to make John leave before he started convincing John why he should stay.  “You’ve gotten better at avoiding my questions John.  Why are you here?”  Sherlock asked, the question pointed and direct.  

****

John looked down at the ground and swallowed hard.  “You said goodbye to me.  But you didn’t give me the same courtesy.  But I...”  He looked down at the ground between them and sighed.  He didn’t want to say goodbye.  

****

Closure.  Of course that was all John wanted.  Closure on a chapter of his life he would probably be glad to forget.  His eyes blurred again but he took a deep breath and blinked a few times.  There was a time and a place for tears.  After John had left.  After he moved and was alone, no one to see him.  

****

Sherlock took another slow breath and looked down at John.  His heart gave a desperate hopeful flutter.  He knew better.  Knew that John was about to leave him.  For good this time.  “Goodbye John.”   _Don’t come back.  I won’t be strong enough to let you go a second time._

****

“Sherlock, wait.”  The finality in those two words, the real goodbye hurt.  He hadn’t explained about Mary, about anything that was so important.  That his bags were packed and waiting in the mansion, that he was here, here to stay, had nowhere else to go.  

****

John closed the gap between them, until they were close enough to reach out and touch.  “Sherlock, wait, please.”  Sherlock refused to look at him.  

****

He had to get away.  He had to run.  This was why he did not get close to people, or care.  It hurt.  It hurt and the pain would never go away.  He would be without John for the rest of his life and he would wish that he had been more selfish and had asked John to stay, to give up everything he had to stay with him.  

****

“Mycroft can call a car.  It will take you back to your flat in London.  Do not come back here.”  Sherlock turned and started to walk back towards the gardens.  His eyes blurred.  He didn’t try to stop it this time.  He flipped his coat collar up, buried his hands in his pockets and walked faster.  John wasn’t following.   _Good.  Go back to your perfect life with Mary._  

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....that didn't quite go as planned, did it?


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crap I am so sorry this is late! Life distracted me, but I swear to god, I'll get back to normal postings, because this is almost over and done with! (Oh my god, I want to cry. ;; It's almost over.)

****

****

****

****

He watched Sherlock walk away, swallowing hard, disbelieving the sight before him.  This was how it was going to all end?  Him leaving Mary, racing to Sherlock, it was all going to end with him walking away like this?  No, it couldn’t.  

****

He needed to regroup and think of another plan of attack.  This one had not worked.  Whatever he had expected, this was not it.  John frowned.  He refused to let it end like this.  He waited until Sherlock had rounded the corner before he turned and started to walk back to the house.  

****

John kept an eye out for Sherlock when he came back from the gardens later.  His heart clenched as he caught sight of Sherlock with his head down and his posture clearly defeated.  This was not over.  Not by a long shot.  He looked at his bags on the bed behind him and sighed.  He and Sherlock definitely had to talk.  Again.  Hopefully without the pushing away that had happened last time.  

****

He looked at the clock.  8pm.  Mycroft had invited him to dinner.  Sherlock was probably going to be there.  It would not be a good chance to talk, but it would at least tell Sherlock he was still here and that he didn’t have any intentions of leaving.  John put the journals down on the bed and went downstairs to face Sherlock again.  

  
  


****

Mycroft loved to keep up appearances.  He had not heard the dinner bell used as a summoning tool since he was a child.  Sherlock stormed into the house, tossing his jacket and scarf onto a chair by the door.  Only one person could have told John where he was, how to find him.  He barged into the dining room.  

****

"Why did you tell him where I was Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded. It simply was not fair. "Did you do it on some mistaken idea he would stay?"

****

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "John will not be joining us for dinner then?"

****

"Of course he won't! I sent him back to Mary, where he belongs!" Sherlock felt another stab of pain at the idea. John was gone for good.

****

"Who are you to decide where John belongs?" He observed Sherlock for a long moment and frowned.

****

Sherlock fell into the seat opposite Mycroft. "His best friend."

****

"Ah. Nothing more then?" Mycroft drawled.

****

He scowled. "There was never a chance of something more. I shall forget that John ever existed."

****

Mycroft smiled. "In all of your life, you will never forget John Watson. You will love him for just as long. I know this.  You know it.  You know I am right and you do not want to admit it.”  He said, his voice soft.   

****

John paused outside the dining room door, listening to the argument inside.  

****

“It doesn’t matter!”

****

“Of course it matters!  You must-”  

****

“Do not tell me what I must and must not do Mycroft!  John is-”  

****

“Right here, actually.”  John pushed the door open and walked into the room.  He moved past a surprised Sherlock and sat down next to Mycroft.  “Sorry I am late Mycroft.”  

****

“Perfectly all right John.  Shall we begin dinner?  Only-”

****

“What are you doing here?”  Sherlock asked, staring at John, sitting across from him.  

****

John raised an eyebrow.  “Eating dinner.  I’m hungry.”  

****

“Why aren’t you back in London?”  

****

“It was too late to start traveling back.  And I have no intention of returning without you, so based on our argument earlier, spending the night seemed necessary.”  John shot back, smiling as the soup was brought out.  

****

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond when he thought about what John had said.  His eyes narrowed and he glared at John.  “What are you talking about?”  

****

John took a sip of the soup and smiled at Mycroft.  “It’s delicious.  Thank you.”  He said, getting comfortable before he started to dig in.  Sherlock was still staring at him.  He could feel it.  

****

“John.  What are you talking about?”  

****

It was rare to see Sherlock so frustrated and angry with him.  John snuck a glance at him.  His cheeks were red and flushed.  His eyes were bright blue and boring into him. He gave Sherlock a smile and turned to Mycroft.  “I believe he cut you off earlier.  What were you saying about dinner?”  

****

Mycroft hid his smile, not wanting Sherlock to see.  John was perfect for Sherlock and he knew it.  Sherlock had heard exactly what John had said and only wanted confirmation.  He took another sip of his wine.  “Only that we would be having three courses tonight.  No need to wine and dine you, but I knew you would be hungry.”  

****

“I appreciate that Mycroft.  Thank you.”  John smiled and took another sip of his wine.  He could feel Sherlock’s anger coming off of him in waves.  

****

“How long do you plan on staying John?  Do you know yet?”  Mycroft asked.  Sherlock was almost ready.  Almost.  He would not be able to contain himself for much longer.  

****

“John cannot stay.  He will be going home to Ma-”

****

“As long as it takes Mycroft.  I am sure you of all people know how stubborn I can be.”  

****

-ry as soon as he possibly can.  He will not want to be away from her long of course.”  Sherlock tried to talk over John and frowned when he was not successful.  

****

This time he had to hide his smile behind his wine glass.  Sherlock was furious.  “Of course, of course.”  

****

“John!”  Sherlock shouted.  

****

John looked up from his plate as the dish was set in front of him.  “Yes Sherlock?”  

****

His knees nearly buckled from the relief that John was looking at him at last.  Now he could get to the bottom of this mess.  “What are you talking about?  Bring me back?  Where?  To London?  To you and Mary?”  

****

He sighed and put down his knife and fork.  “I am not going to have this conversation with you over dinner Sherlock.  You were so determined to make me leave before I could explain myself.  This is your punishment.”  John glared right back at Sherlock and then went on to his dinner.  

****

Mycroft snorted and then hid the reaction behind sipping his wine again.  Sherlock was glaring at him now.  He supposed he deserved it after snickering like that, but watching John and Sherlock bicker was simply wonderful.  They truly were made for each other.  Now if only they would realize it too.

****

"Punishment? Am I a child?" Sherlock snarled.

****

John sighed. "Of course not Sherlock. However, you refused to let me get a word in when we spoke earlier." He shifted, uncomfortable.  

****

"There is nothing further we need to about or discuss. Tomorrow you will leave and go back to Mary." Sherlock said, turning away from the table.

****

He stood up from the table. "Excuse me Mycroft." John turned to look at Sherlock's back. "I left Mary. I will not go back to her. I packed my bag and left. Because she watched me tear London apart looking for you." John walked past Sherlock and out of the dining room.

****

“Well.  That went as well as could have been expected.”  Mycroft drawled, finishing off the wine in his glass, watching Sherlock stand where he was.  He had yet to move, with his hands clenched into fists and his posture angry.  

****

“I’m going to bed Mycroft.”  

****

He smiled again.  So like Sherlock to hide his feelings.  “He didn’t hesitate you know.” Mycroft watched Sherlock pause.  “To chose you.  I get the distinct feeling the decision was one he had made a long time ago.”  

****

“Goodnight Mycroft.”  Sherlock bit out the words and left the dining room.  His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest and there was nothing he could do to stop it.  Not right now.  John had left Mary. Forever. Moved out. The first thing he had done was come to him. What was he supposed to do now?

  
  
  



	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Conversation

 

 

 

 

He had been prepared for Sherlock to hunt him down and continue their argument. John was surprised when he didn't hear a word. Now it appeared that Sherlock was ignoring him. Gearing up for their argument had left him unable to get any sleep.  What was he supposed to do now?  

 

It was morning now.  The sun was well up over the horizon.  Might as well face the rest of the day and hope that when he collapsed from exhaustion later, it would at least be near a bed.  John smiled at the thought and pulled out a change of clothes before stumbling into the shower.  

 

He nearly dozed off in the shower, decided that tea would be the first order of the morning and made his way downstairs.  Mycroft was nowhere to be found and he had no idea where the kitchen was in this mansion.  

 

“You have to go down this hallway, four doors to the right to find the kitchen.”  Sherlock called out from behind John.  

 

John turned and gave Sherlock a grateful smile.  “Thanks.  I need a cup of tea.” Not that Sherlock couldn’t deduce that within seconds of looking at him.  Oh well.  

 

“I could tell.  You’re blinking far more often than you normally do.  You didn’t sleep well then?”  Sherlock asked, sneaking another glance at John.  He was wearing another of those jumpers that he liked.  This one was green.  

 

He shook his head.  “No.  Not at all unfortunately.  I have a feeling I will end up falling asleep somewhere in the middle of today.”  

 

Sherlock smiled. "I doubt that Mycroft will mind. We have some of the comfiest couches here."

 

John raised an eyebrow. "Speaking from experience there Sherlock?"

 

"Of course. Just don't fall asleep in the west sitting room. I once got sunburned because I fell asleep in the afternoon there." Sherlock said, smiling at John.

 

He grinned back at Sherlock. "How old were you?"

 

"Twelve."

 

"Oh I bet that wasn't fun." John winced in sympathy.

 

"Not at all. Thankfully, it was summer, so no one else witnessed my shame." Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair. This almost felt normal, talking like this. His heart gave an unpleasant lurch. John.  

 

"I will leave you to your tea." Sherlock said, closing his eyes. He could not keep this up.

 

John didn't hesitate. "You aren't hungry? Or thirsty Sherlock?"

 

He took a deep breath. There was no way he could do this and keep himself together. This was unfair. John must be torturing him. He looked up at John, at the sight of him in a dark green jumper. "No. Thank you John."

 

"You didn't eat dinner last night." John said, watching Sherlock turn away from him again.

 

"I wasn't hungry then, nor am I hungry now." Sherlock bit out, glancing back at John. It hurt to look at him. It always would. He pushed his hands into his pockets and started to stride deeper into the house. He needed to avoid going near John while he stayed here.  

 

"Liar." John kept his voice soft, but watched as Sherlock stiffened and stopped for a moment before he started walking again, this time with more determination. Sherlock just did not want to admit it. Or eat near him. Or both.

 

“I’m impressed John.  Keep it up.  I think you’re starting to get through to him.”  Mycroft drawled, leaning against the doorframe to his office.  It had been easy to hear the two of them talking out in the hallway.  That they had relapsed into their usual banter was an excellent sign.  

 

John looked over at Mycroft.  He wanted to ask why it was so hard for Sherlock to let him back in again.  To just accept that he had come after him with no plans, no nothing.  

 

“He thinks he failed you.”  Mycroft looked at the end of the hallway where Sherlock had turned the corner and left.  “He had a relapse with drugs.  He was not able to keep you from being hurt when he disappeared.  He wanted to protect you and let you live the life you chose.  He doesn’t know what to do now.”  

 

"He is an idiot." John said, a smile on his lips as he looked down the hallway. He ignored the sharp look from Mycroft. "I called him an idiot on our first case together. It made him smile and sealed our friendship." He explained.

 

"He thinks you are going to leave John." Mycroft looked at the doctor again.

 

John nodded. "Yes. He does. I refuse to."

 

Mycroft chuckled. "An immovable object. Might be just what Sherlock needs." He looked out the window. "Enjoy your morning tea and breakfast John. You will find him in the gardens after you are finished."

 

Yes.  He was going to need breakfast.  And tea.  Maybe he would be able to get through to Sherlock this time.  Third time’s the charm, right?  John nodded to Mycroft and made his way to the kitchen.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

 

It was at least an hour before John got up the courage to head to the gardens after Sherlock.  Mycroft hadn’t lied to him, he could see Sherlock’s figure from here.  Before he approached, he stopped and watched him.  They had to talk about everything this time, not one of them bowl the other over in conversation.  Sherlock had done it to him yesterday, and he’d reciprocated by doing it at dinner.  They weren’t getting anywhere.  

 

“Can we try really talking this time?”  John called out.  

 

Sherlock finished what he was doing before placing the fresh honeycomb into a small bucket.  He walked back towards John and put it down.  “What about?”  He glanced at John before he looked back down at the honey.  

 

“Everything?”  

 

“Everything would take longer than we have John.”  Sherlock said, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.  

 

John cleared his throat.  “I think that actually depends on how much time we have.”  

 

He smiled this time.  A real smile.  John always managed to bring those out of him.  “Where would you like me to start?”  

 

John took a deep breath.  So many questions he wanted to ask.  Where did he start?  “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?”  He held up a hand to forestall Sherlock’s first response.  “I’m not talking about right away.  You made that very clear in your journals, that you could not go near me with the risk of me being shot.”  He paused for a moment and smiled.  “Thank you, by the way.  For saving me.”  

 

“You’re welcome.”  Sherlock said, his posture tense and his hands stuffed into his pockets.  

 

“But after Sebastian Moran was dead.  Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?  I know you tried to see me, and I was a bloody idiot...but why didn’t you just come see me?”  John swallowed, watching Sherlock for his reaction.  

 

This was the question he had dreaded.  Not that he had thought they would be here having this conversation, but this was never one that he wanted to have.  Ever.  He sighed.  John deserved the truth.  

 

“You were happy with Mary.  The last thing I wanted to do was disrupt that, when you had finally managed to move on from my death.”  Sherlock admitted.  “I wanted you to have that.  I would-” He hesitated.  “I would only have gotten in the way.”  

 

He wanted to say that that wasn’t true.  That Sherlock would not have been in the way.  But he couldn’t.  Because it wasn’t right.  Instead John smiled.  “Sherlock, you’ve been disrupting my supposedly calm, cool and collected life since we met.”  

 

Sherlock flinched.  Of course.  John had had simple ideas about his life before they met.  Things like a family, building a home with someone.  Then he came along and messed it all up.  Not once, but twice now.  

 

John stepped closer. He reached out and touched Sherlock’s arm.  “That was a compliment.  Somehow, by the virtue of you being you Sherlock, you taught me that calm, cool and collected was exactly what I didn’t want.”  He swallowed.  “You showed me what I needed instead.”  

 

He looked up at John in surprise.  None of this made any sense.  How could he have shown John what he needed?  “And what exactly is that?”  

 

“That I need an brilliantly stupid detective to drag me around London at all hours of the day or night, so that I can shoot the people who he chases after without regard for his own well-being.”  John said, his lips curving in a smile.  He wanted Sherlock to laugh and smile at him.  Shake his head, exasperated.  He wanted all of that and more.  

 

“Don’t be ridiculous John.  You don’t need that.  You want it, certainly.  But you don’t need it.”  Sherlock said, looking down and away from John.  The chase.  That’s what John needed.  Just like he needed the game.  

 

“I wasn’t describing a ‘that’ Sherlock.  I was describing a who.  You, as a matter of fact.”  John bit out, almost growling the words.  

 

Sherlock looked up at John, his heart jumping into his throat at the idea that John might need him.  Might want him enough to leave everything he knew.  Everything he thought he had wanted.  

  
  
****  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER. I AM. I WILL MAKE IT BETTER. I PROMISE. <3 I love you all and comments and criticism are welcome.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution. At last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the bit you've all been waiting for. I pray it doesn't disappoint.

****

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The look on Sherlock’s face was enough to make him want to stop this word game right this second.  He looked both hurt and hopeful at the same time.  It was a painful combination to watch.  “Sherlock.”  John whispered.  He stepped closer and took the bucket from Sherlock’s hand and put it down on the ground.  Sherlock was trembling.  

****

“What if I don’t go back to London John?  What if I decide to move to Sussex and-”  

****

“And start your own private bee farm?”  John asked, unable to keep from smiling.  

****

He snapped his mouth shut and looked at John, absorbing the sight of his face, the way he smiled at him like that.  It was a smile reserved just for him.  Or, at least he would pretend it was.  “Yes.  What if I do that?”  

****

“Then I will go with you to Sussex, help you start your bee farm, and blog to my heart’s content.”  John said, his voice soft.  

****

Sherlock flinched at the soft tone.  John was making all of this sound so easy.  It wasn’t that easy.  Things didn’t work out that way.  “John-”  

****

“Tell me about your relapse.”  John asked, determined to get Sherlock off the topic.  He had read the journals, knew what had caused them and felt sick to his stomach every time he thought about it.  

****

He blinked at the topic change.  John was still too close.  He should move back and give them some room.  “What do you want to know about it?”  

****

John swallowed, it felt like there was a lump in his throat.  “I know...I know what caused it.  For that, I’m so sorry Sherlock.”  

****

He shrugged.  There was nothing either of them could say about it.  It was what it was.  It happened.  He was clean again.  “I’m clean now.”  

****

He managed a nod.  “Irene Adler helped you.”  John felt a flare of jealousy inside him.  She had been able to help Sherlock.  While he had still been held hostage by Sebastian Moran.  

****

“No.  I wouldn’t say helped.  I managed to get to her house and I locked myself in a room while I went through withdrawals.”  Sherlock corrected.  He frowned.  “She did nothing more than feed me.  She wanted answers, but I was...”  He looked down at the ground, but John was there, standing too close, far too close.  “I hadn’t accepted most of the answers yet myself.  It made them impossible to answer.”  

****

He thought for a moment before adding.  “She gave me a place to sort myself out.  I think she knew that’s what I needed more than anything else.  A place away from Mycroft and Molly and everyone.”  Sherlock glanced at John and then looked back to the ground.  He couldn’t bare the look in John’s eyes.  

****

John nodded and watched Sherlock.  The full story wouldn’t be given to him today.  But there was one more thing he had to ask about.  “What about Sebastian Moran?  When he kidnapped me?  Why...why didn’t you stay?”  

****

“It sickened me.”  Sherlock said, feeling John stiffen with surprise.  “That you had been hurt because of me.  When you didn’t even know I was alive.  I wanted to rip him apart with my bare hands.  Mycroft...Mycroft stopped me just before I killed him.  He said you wouldn’t have wanted me to do that.  I left before I did.  But it was a close thing.”  He admitted, feeling his face heat up.  

****

“I didn’t want you to see what I had almost done.  I couldn’t let you see it.  So I ran.”  Sherlock added.  

****

“Until I came here.”  John said, reaching up and touching Sherlock’s cheek with his fingertips.  “You finished the journals, gave them to Molly and-”  

****

“No.”  Sherlock shook his head.  “I tried to see you in December first.  Then I came here.”  He tried to ignore how rough John’s fingers were, how easy it would be to lean in to the touch.  How much he _wanted_ to.  

****

His voice dropped a little at the mention of December.  “Ah.  That’s right.”  John let his fingers trail higher, until they were tangled in Sherlock’s ginger curls.  “I blame this hair.”  He gave a small smile, but Sherlock was not looking at him.  “I always looked for you with black hair.  I must have instantly dismissed you as ‘not-Sherlock’ when I saw this.”  

****

Sherlock bit down a choked noise that escaped from his throat.  John’s fingers were tangled in his hair and they were only inches apart.  He could see John’s lips, they were wet.  Clearly John had licked his lips while he had been talking.  The urge to kiss him was almost impossible to ignore.  He wanted it with a level of desire that surprised him.  “John...”  He had to warn him, tell him to back away, to go away before he made a fool of himself.  

****

His hair was softer than he imagined.  Sherlock had let it grow out too.  It was longer than he normally kept it.  John looked up at Sherlock when he heard him whisper his name.  The longing in his name made his heart stop.  Their eyes caught.  He soaked up the desire, the naked want he could see in Sherlock’s eyes.  The only thing he had to do was ask for it.  John tugged Sherlock’s hair, pulling him a little closer.  

****

“John.”  Sherlock said again, trying to stop it, but John was tugging on his hair, pulling him closer and now they were breathing the same air.  Hot breath on his lips.  John. All around him.  He trembled, his hands dropping to John’s hips.  He had to hold on to something or he was going to shatter and fall apart.  

****

John smiled and pulled Sherlock that last inch until their lips were sealed together.  He had expected the electric jolt that went through him, but not the desperate groan from Sherlock.  In another second, he had Sherlock pressed tightly against him.  Sherlock didn’t let him move, instead he kept kissing him harder and pulling him closer.  He groaned and tightened his fingers in Sherlock’s hair, his other hand wrapping around Sherlock’s waist.  

****

He pulled back, a small whimper escaping against his will.  Sherlock forced his eyes open so he could look at John, taking in the sight of him.  “John.  I can’t...”  He sucked in a slow breath.  He saw John’s face fall and his heart stopped.  He must explain.  Clarify.  Make John understand.  “I can’t...do this if y-you’re not going to be able to stay.”  He whispered.  He gripped John tighter, afraid that he was going to realize exactly what he had done and run screaming in the other direction.  

****

He shook his head.  “You and Mycroft both seem to be under the impression that as soon as I get the chance, I’m going to leave.”  John whispered, tugging Sherlock closer before brushing their noses together.  “I’m not leaving Sherlock.”  

****

Sherlock sighed and tightened his hand on John’s hip.  “You can’t promise that.  I-”

****

“Are you ever going to fake your death again without telling me?”  John asked, his eyes hard and glinting.  

****

“Not if it can be easily avoided.”  

****

A short nod.  “Right.  Are you ever going to cheat on me?”  

****

He blinked.  “Of course not John.  How could you even-”

****

“Then I can promise you, if neither of those things happen, I will never leave.”  John growled, tugging Sherlock down again.  “Never.”  He watched Sherlock meet his eyes, hesitant and a little afraid.  

****

“John.”  John seemed so certain, so positive, it was impossible not to believe him.  He wanted to.  He wanted to with his whole heart and soul.  To kiss him and hold him and never let go.  

****

He pulled Sherlock down until their lips were barely separated again.  “I think we deserve a vacation.  Let’s go to Sussex and pick out the house for your bee farm.  I promise I will pretend to be endlessly fascinated while you tell me everything you know.”  John smiled and stroked his thumbs over Sherlock’s cheeks.  

****

Sherlock froze and looked at John, confused.  Sussex?  John wanted to pick out the house with him?  He was unprepared for the deep level of satisfaction that settled into his stomach.  “You’ll find them very boring.”  

****

John smiled.  “Is that a yes?”  

****

There was no other possible answer.  It had to be yes.  He managed a nod.  “Yes.”  

****

“Good.”  John whispered and tugged Sherlock down for another kiss.  He slid their lips slowly together again.  This time Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and did not let go.  Perfect.  

****

Sherlock broke out of the kiss long enough to look at John again.  John’s hands were rough on his cheeks.  His eyes fluttered shut.  They were the best thing he had ever felt.  “John.”  His voice was hoarse.  He wanted.  Oh he wanted more than he should.  

****

John hummed and opened his eyes slowly, looking up at Sherlock.  “Hmm?”  

****

“You want this?  You’re sure?”  

****

His heart tightened uncomfortably at how insecure Sherlock was.  This was not something new, this was a deep-seated insecurity.  John pulled Sherlock down until he could look straight into those blue eyes he had spent three years dreaming about.  

****

“Listen to me Sherlock.  When Molly told me you were alive, and handed me those journals I was stunned.  When I finished them I spent two days tearing London apart looking for you.  I checked every place we had gone to together on cases, and I had the homeless network searching all of the underground for you.”  John didn’t let Sherlock go.  He had to make him see just how serious he was about this.  

****

“When Mycroft told me where you were, there was no question in my mind that I would be coming here to you.  None.  Do you understand?”  He stared at Sherlock, willing him to understand.  “You were the only thing I thought about.”  John dropped his voice and gave a slow swallow.  “My heart understood what it wanted before my mind did.”

****

He broke eye contact for the first time and looked down.  “I don’t regret leaving Mary.  I’m sad that I hurt her.  She’s a wonderful person who didn’t deserve that.  But she understood why I had to go.  Better than I did.”  John bit his lip.  “She said there was an unstoppable force pulling me to you.  And that I would go.  No matter what, I would go.  She was right.”  

****

“John...”  

****

John flinched and didn’t look up at Sherlock.  “I wish I could make you understand what you gave me Sherlock.  I was an ex-army doctor who was depressed and feeling useless.  You let me live again.  And no matter what I follow you into, whether it is the criminal underbelly of London, or into some house at Sussex, it is more than I could have ever imagined having.”  He took a shaky deep breath and looked up at Sherlock.  

****

“Do you get it now?”  He whispered.  There was his heart on his sleeve for Sherlock, whether the other man wanted it or not.  

****

“You love me.”  His voice did not sound like it belonged to him.  It was someone else’s voice speaking for him.  

****

John smiled and pulled Sherlock down for another kiss.  “You bloody daft man.  You don’t think I’d tear apart London for just anyone, do you?”  John cut off any response Sherlock was about to give him with another kiss, slow and deep.  

****

Was this normal?  Wanting to hold onto John and never let go?  Cling to him like some teenage girl?  Wanting to kiss him over and over again until they were both unable to breathe?  “John.  I don’t-”  

****

“Shut up.”  John interrupted, grinning at Sherlock’s indignant look.  “I know this isn’t your ‘area’ and never has been.  I don’t mind.”  

****

“You don’t expect some mushy declaration of love, do you John?”  Sherlock wrinkled his nose distastefully.  Then he truly would sound like a teenage girl.  

****

John chuckled.  “Maybe another time.  I do want one thing from you though.”  He paused and looked up at Sherlock, his face serious.  “I need you to answer one question for me.  Look me in the eye when you do.  All right?”  

****

His mind raced.  What could it possibly be?  What did John need to ask him that could be of the utmost importance?  Sherlock looked into John’s eyes, careful not to look away.  

****

“Sherlock.  Do you want me to stay?”  He was proud that his voice did not shake, but his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought it might explode.  

****

Relief nearly made his knees buckle.  That was it?  That was all John was asking him?  Sherlock leaned forward and sealed their lips together, noting John’s surprise at his reaction.  John tasted better than he ever could have dreamed.  Now that he could truly feel and appreciate it.  He pulled back just enough to whisper one word, ‘Yes!’ before he kissed John again, pressing closer to him.  

****

He had expected almost a dismissive answer from Sherlock.  An ‘Of course John’ or ‘Don’t be ridiculous John’ or something of that nature.  John had not expected to kissed within an inch of his life.  He could taste how desperate Sherlock was to show him that he did want him to stay.  They would have to go over that in the future.  John barely caught Sherlock’s whisper before he was being kissed again.  

****

He was dizzy when he pulled back from the kiss and looked at John.  He had never been kissed like that before.  Had it been just as good for John?  Blown pupils, swollen lips and a shortness of breath told him yes.  “John, I should warn you.”  Sherlock would rather this information remain buried forever, but John deserved to know.  

****

John gave a bemused smile at Sherlock.  “What could you warn me about that I do not already know about you Sherlock?  You play violin at three in the morning.  Sometimes you don’t talk for days on end.  You forget to eat more often than you remember.”  

****

Sherlock smiled and then frowned again.  “I’m not very good at it.”  

****

“I thought we had already established that I don’t care if you are good with relationships or not?”  John asked, raising an eyebrow.  Sherlock was starting to look more and more uncomfortable.  

****

“No.  Not that.  Though, yes, I’m not very good at those.  I meant sex.”  He squirmed.  

****

John paused and took a moment to blink.  “Sex.”  

****

“Yes.  I thought it might be best to warn you that I am not very good at it, seeing as we may have it in the near future.”  Sherlock said, getting the words out as quickly as he could.  

****

John blinked again.  This conversation felt more than a little surreal.  “What makes you think you aren’t good at it?”  

****

Sherlock frowned and looked away from John.  He cleared his throat.  “I have been reliably informed that it is the case.”  Insecurity threatened to choke him and keep from speaking further.  He was over this.  He was.  

****

He narrowed his eyes.  Someone had told Sherlock that he was bad at sex?  In a way that he believed it?  Something wasn’t right here.  “Forget what other people have said and why they have said it.  What makes you think that you are bad at sex?”  

****

“I didn’t enjoy it much.  I was bored.  I was not able to reach...”  Sherlock felt his cheeks heat and he bit down hard on his lip.  

****

“Orgasm?”  John supplied.  

****

“Yes.  Correct.  Once my...partner was satisfied, I was later able to take care of myself.  The act itself was never something I enjoyed.”  He cringed.  Was John now going to leave him because he could not be intimate?  One more thing wrong with him.  

****

John swallowed.  He would have to tread carefully here.  “Did you try both positions Sherlock?”  

****

“When I saw how little I enjoyed receiving, there seemed little point in trying the opposite.”  He glanced back at John.  John appeared to be thinking.  The look in his eyes was one he did not recognize.  

****

“Did you ever try any foreplay?  Other than kissing?”  

****

Sherlock shook his head.  “I never saw much point in it.  It seemed unhygenic.”  

****

A grin broke free despite his best efforts.  Only Sherlock would describe foreplay as unhygenic.  “Would you be willing to try with me?”  

****

“Of course, John.”  At least with John, he knew it would not hurt.  John would be gentle and careful.  Maybe he would be able to enjoy it more.  

****

John trailed his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.  “Do you want to try it?”  His eyes softened.  The kiss Sherlock had given him earlier did not match up with what he was being told.  

****

“Yes.  But I do not wish to disappoint you.”  Sherlock swallowed and looked at John.  His eyes fluttered closed after a moment and he leaned into the touch.  Each time John ran his fingers through it, he felt contentment settle into his stomach.  

****

“You won’t disappoint me.  You probably just have a lower sex drive.  Nothing to be ashamed of and nothing that is going to scare me away.”  John whispered, pressing a slow kiss to Sherlock’s jaw.  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure you enjoy yourself in bed with me.  I will make sure you try being on top as well.  I think that will help.”  

****

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and he looked at John.  “You would let me do that?”  

****

He smiled at Sherlock.  “Of course.  I’ve imagined it more than once.”  John flushed and looked away.  That thought was supposed to stay in his head.  

****

He was unprepared for the bolt of arousal that settled into his stomach.  John had imagined them doing that?  More than once?  Sherlock suddenly wanted John with a fierceness that he had never felt before.  

****

“Sherlock?  You okay?”  Sherlock’s expression had changed into one he didn’t recognize on Sherlock’s face.  It was easily recognizable nonetheless.  Possession.  A shiver went up his spine.  

****

He looked down at John.  John.  His John.  No one else would ever take John from him.  John was his.  John had imagined being dominated by him.  Wanted it.  

****

“Sherlock, answer me.  You’re starting to worry me.”  And turn him on, but that was another problem entirely.  He could feel the sexual tension coming off of Sherlock in waves.  

****

“Yes.”  Was that his voice?  That low growl?  HIs eyes snapped to John’s face to observe his reaction.  Pupil’s widened further.  Cheeks flushed.  Red down his neck.  His breath escaping in a slow pant.  John was aroused.  Obvious.  

****

“Okay.  Good.”  John swallowed, unable to look away from Sherlock.  He was being devoured by only his eyes.  “Maybe we should head back up to the house?”  

****

“An excellent idea John.”  Sherlock said.  His voice still felt too rough to possibly be his.  His body was making its demands known.  He wanted John and he wanted him now.  

****

John’s lips curled into a smile and he looked up at Sherlock, stepping closer to him again.  “Into a room?  Where we won’t be interrupted by Mycroft?”  

****

Sherlock frowned.  “He would find some way to interrupt us.  He always does.  He would say we are moving too quickly.”  He wrapped an arm around John and started to lead him back to the house.  

****

“Three and a half years worth of build up is not quickly.”  John growled, keeping up with Sherlock easily.  He wanted to get Sherlock into a room and prove to him that not only was he bloody brilliant at sex, that when done right, it almost always felt good.  

****

He laughed and squeezed John.  He had missed him.  Missed this.  “I would like to see you tell that to his face and see his reaction.”  

****

“He would have me arrested for defiling his baby brother.”  John quipped, grinning up at Sherlock.  

****

“I’d bail you out.”  Sherlock grinned back at him.  He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that if he wanted to kiss John right now, he could.  He didn’t have to pretend that he did not want to.  

****

“Sherlock?”  John took a few more steps forward and turned to look at Sherlock, wondering what had made him stop like that.  

****

In two steps, he was pressed against John and devouring his mouth in a slow and deep kiss.  His whole body responded when he tugged John closer, not letting him escape the kiss.  He pulled away some minutes later when they were both out of breath and glassy-eyed.  

****

“Not...”  John sucked in another breath and looked at Sherlock.  God, he needed that man alone in a room with far fewer clothes on and he needed it right now.  “Not that I am complaining, but what brought that on?”  

****

“I realized I could kiss you whenever I wanted.  That I did not have to pretend I didn’t want to anymore.”  Sherlock’s eyes dropped to John’s lips again.  In fact, he wanted to kiss John again right now.  Swollen pink lips were far too tantalizing.  Especially when John’s eyes were dark with lust.  He was about to say so when he caught sight of John’s grin.  His breath caught.  The way John was looking at him.  It made his heart pound.  If he had had (and he hadn’t) any doubts about how John felt about him, they were gone with that look.  

****

“Come here!”  John growled, pulling Sherlock down and into another kiss.  This one was far more desperate and driven by desire, but christ, how was he supposed to control himself when Sherlock admitted things like that?  

****

He pulled out every single stop in the book he knew to make sure Sherlock enjoyed that kiss.  Their tongues tangled and dueled together, he nibbled and sucked on Sherlock’s bottom lip before diving in for a deeper kiss.  

****

“Might I suggest you two adjourn to another area of the house besides the back porch?”  Mycroft’s voice cut through the passionate kiss he had just been witness too.  It had been enough to curl his toes.  Any doubts he had about John Watson were now long gone.  

****

Sherlock groaned and rested his forehead against John’s shoulder.  Mycroft’s voice had frozen the both of them.  He wanted John to kiss him again.  Kiss him like that and never stop.  Devour him like that.  “Mycroft, how pleasant to see you so soon.  Perhaps you could be so kind as to let us be?”  

****

“Now Sherlock, where is the fun in all of that?”  Mycroft said, his lips curling.

****

"Mycroft, if you don't leave this instant, I am going to defile your baby brother on the back porch and make sure every person in the house hears us." John snarled, his voice a low growl.

****

Mycroft was already back in the house. "No need for threats Doctor Watson." He called, his voice sing-song.

****

“Are you going to leave us alone tonight?”  John added, watching him pause in the doorway.  

****

“Breakfast will be at ten am sharp.  I suggest that you are not late.”  Mycroft straightened his jacket and continued down the hallway.  

****  
  
  
  
  



	9. The Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last official chapter of Journals. I'm so sad that it's over. This has been a labour of love and it's been more than 18 months since I first started writing it. 
> 
> For all of you who are still with me and have stuck with this, I adore you so much. You guys are the best readers someone could ask for. I love you for all of the support and faith you have given me.

****

****

****

John exhaled and relaxed, his arms tightening around Sherlock’s waist.  Sherlock was shaking a little.  “Sherlock?  Are you alright?  What’s wrong?”  

****

Sherlock pulled away to look at John and gave him a wide smile.  “You are amazing.  Fascinating.  Interesting.”  He cupped John’s face in his hands.  “And you rescue me from Mycroft.”  He kissed John again, hard, deep and desperate, wanting to continue where they had left off from.  That particular kiss had been a revelation. No one had ever kissed him like that before.

****

John sent up a small prayer of thanks to any deity listening. He would never have had this chance if any of the people who had been with Sherlock had realized what they had. He pulled Sherlock closer and gave a small groan. They needed to get upstairs.

****

John had stopped kissing him. Why? Had he done something incorrectly? Sherlock pulled back enough to look John in the face. "Is something wrong John?"

****

He chuckled and smiled at Sherlock. "No. Not at all. But we need to go up to your room, or I really am going to make good on my threat to Mycroft."

****

Sherlock blinked in confusion before he felt his face turn an uncomfortable shade of red. John had said he would defile him. Instead of the idea disgusting him, he felt a hot thread of arousal shoot through him. What was John going to do to him that would leave him defiled?

****

He smiled and pulled Sherlock's face closer and kissed him softly. "I won't do anything you ask me not to. But I have to show you how wrong they were about you."

****

He blinked, not understanding who John was talking about.

****

"The people who said you were bad at sex. I will show you how wrong they were." John promised. His thumbs slowly traced those cheekbones that he could cut his his hands on.  He watched as Sherlock flushed and shook his head.  

****

"I don't wish to disappoint you John. More than one person informed me of my...inadequacies. I am sure they were right at least in part." Sherlock said.

****

John smiled. "You are probably bossy as hell, bloody demanding and don't want to be teased unnecessarily." He pulled Sherlock in for another kiss. "I will love it because you are you Sherlock."

****

Sherlock frowned. There was no basis in logic there. John would love it because it was him. "I will-"

****

"Listen to me Sherlock. You let me lead in this."

  
“John-”  
  
“Sherlock.”  John interrupted.  He smiled and dropped his hands from Sherlock’s face.  He reached out and grabbed one of Sherlock’s hands.  “Trust me?”    
  
Sherlock looked down at their hands.  His mind felt crystal clear for the first time in three years, two months, eleven days and approximately seven hours.  “I do.”    
  
John grinned and tugged Sherlock into the house.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. It's over. Their story is only just beginning. The piece of it that I've told, I loved. 
> 
> I hope to write a few more things for this verse, but it will be a while before I do. For right now, I need to leave this as-is. 
> 
> I love all of you. Please know that. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Criticisms welcome!
> 
> You can find me here: http://aria-lerendeair.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can also watch me write fics like this (and dozens of others) live! Follow me on Livestream for fics, shenanigans and a general all-around awesome time! http://new.livestream.com/accounts/7212317


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